


chew your meat for you (pass it back and forth)

by crybbybilly



Series: monster fuckin’ [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Body Horror, Dubious Consent, Horror, M/M, Mild Gore, Other, Steve gets railed by a bunch of vines, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Urethral Play, monster fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22085299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crybbybilly/pseuds/crybbybilly
Summary: Steve thinks maybe he has PTSD.He’s not clinically diagnosed, he can’t exactly go to a therapist and confide that he was kidnapped by evil Russians, that there’s blood on his hands, blood in his pool, that he saw a boy who was barely a man die screaming and bloody as he was ripped into by the Mindflayer until his body gave out.It’s a lot to process on your own so Steve is pretty sure he has PTSD.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington(Implied), Steve Harrington/The Upside Down
Series: monster fuckin’ [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589821
Comments: 10
Kudos: 125





	chew your meat for you (pass it back and forth)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thursdayknight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thursdayknight/gifts).



> read the tags!!  
> this is a second addition to a previous fic, can be read as a stand-alone

Steve thinks maybe he has PTSD.

He’s not clinically diagnosed, he can’t exactly go to a therapist and confide that he was kidnapped by evil Russians, that there’s blood on his hands, blood in his pool, that he saw a boy who was barely a man die screaming and bloody as he was ripped into by the Mindflayer until his body gave out.

It’s a lot to process on your own so Steve is pretty sure he has PTSD.

It’s why his dreams feel so real, why each night he wakes up sore and exhausted, screaming so loud he’s thankful his parents are rarely home despite how much he longs for comfort he doubts they would offer him anyway.

The first time it had happened, Steve couldn’t go back to sleep, he was too afraid of what was waiting for him, lurking in the darkness of his mind, the wet ache at his core, the jowls snapping at his heels.

Now though, Steve sort of welcomes the familiar chill of waking up in the upside down in whatever clothes he had fallen asleep in. The damp putrid air that surrounds him is thick and suffocating, makes it hard to breath when he’s running, chest tight with panic.

Only now Steve rarely panics.

Steve groans and rolls over onto his back, rubs tiredly at his eyes as he takes a moment to breathe, to let himself adjust to being in another world, a darker world.

He tries to guess where he is by the vines stretched over the ceiling, they’re curled around shitty fluorescent lights that swing high above him, make everything glow blue because the upside down is always blue or red or grey, always dark and shadowy, always falling apart.

Steve’s only been in the upside down once, in the tunnels, back when he was still in love with Nancy, back when he thought he was going to die bloody but a hero. It’s his only actual experience being in the upside down and for the most part his dreams always take place there in that dark maze beneath the pumpkin patch.

Lately though his subconscious has been making things up, like now, Steve is pretty sure he’s in a dilapidated version of his high school gym.

The rope from state testing at the end of senior year is still there if not falling apart, hanging loosely from the ceiling when Steve sits up to actually look around.

It’s just how he remembered except rotten, infected, except there’s a ghost haunting these halls.

“Hello?” Steve calls out, stands up and tries to see through the perpetual darkness.

He gets no response.

Sometimes, in dreams Steve has had before he'll hear the roar of a demogorgon or the clack of its pups, sometimes Billy will step out of the shadows and great him with that blood black smile, tongue flicking wickedly between his teeth. Steve prefers those dreams, he knows what he’s getting into right away, he likes knowing his next move.

The silence is response is deafening, it means Steve has to explore and that fills him with a sense of dread, makes him nervous despite how things always go. He’d much rather get it over with, the anticipation a heavy weight to bear when he’s forced to wander around until the upside down decides it’s time and stops toying with him.

Steve heads for the locker rooms.

They’re not his first choice, despite his popularity in high school Steve would much rather not spend anymore time in the dreadful building, even in his dreams. The exit that leads directly outside of the building is locked, bolted shut, and when Steve tries the hallway doors that lead deeper into the school he can see three demodogs circling the halls through the glass window, waiting, blocking him in.

Steve’s had those dreams before too, multiple petal headed beast chasing him down, forcing him to run because they like the hunt. It’s exhausting in a way that leaves Steve sore for days after, he woke up the next morning with bruises on his knees and elbows, with phantom pains where claws dug into his tender flesh to hold on while they all took turns rutting into him. Steve’s pretty sure he died in that dream, woke up just as his heart stopped, clutching his chest where gore and exposed bone had been.

So Steve avoids the hallway and heads for the only other available doors.

The boys locker room is honestly what Steve had expected, damp, dingy, open lockers falling off the hinges, and _vines_ , thick dark vines that look too be reaching out from the showers.

Steve follows them, runs his hands over the inky cords, treats them kind because he’s not really afraid of them anymore. The vines are always good to him, he prefers them over the dogs. The slick vines are eager to touch and curl against Steve’s skin, petting him as he walks farther into the shower room. Steve’s grown to love the feeling, it probably has something to do with the toxin they release as they rub against his bare skin. It makes him pliant and a little foggy, like he’s spent too much time hot boxing in his BMW.

Where the shower once stood is a disfigured tree trunk made up of onyx vines that curl around the water lines from floor to ceiling. Steve walks around it, by passes his usual spot beneath the spray to stand in Billy’s absence. Steve plants his feet where Billy once stood so full of life naked as the day he was born, harassing Steve, always harassing Steve, even now that he’s gone, now that he’s upside down.

They were never friends, Steve doesn’t really understand why Billy is in his dreams, why he dreams of Billy of all people when most of his trauma took place away from his high school bully but nothing makes sense here, Steve stopped looking for sense when he regularly started getting fucked by monsters in his dreams.

Sometimes when the party all gets together, when Joyce brings Will and El back to Hawkins to visit, Steve wants to ask them if his vivid dreams are normal. They’re young, Steve is positive they aren’t having the same type of dreams that consume him at night but he catches Will staring at him with focused eyes, almost like he’s afraid, like Will knows something Steve doesn’t.

El bluntly ask him what’s wrong, touches his cheek and frowns, tells him he’s cold before demanding Joyce make him hot soup that Steve couldn’t bring himself to eat. He wasn’t hungry, he wasn’t cold, and that was the end of that, he hasn’t seen them since.

Steve knows this place is making him sick, whatever those dogs, whatever those vines, whatever Billy is pumping into him is taking an affect. They’re only dreams so Steve isn’t that worried, he’s not going to turn into a monster or anything, but he’s checked out a couple books from the library that go over how your mental health can affect your physical health, so he’s pretty sure it’s making him sick. It’s psychosomatic.

He’s pretty sure it’s all connected back to his PTSD.

Steve gets bored dicking around in the shadow of Billy’s ghost, heads back out to the locker room to sit at one of the benches that isn’t completely falling apart.

Usually something happens by now, maybe he is supposed to go out and face those dogs, let them tear into him so he can finally wake up. Maybe he’ll find Billy in the girls locker room, maybe he missed something on the court, Steve can’t quite figure it out.

He wants to figure it out, he wants to wake up panting into his pillow, Steve wants it so bad he’s been half hard since he woke up in this awful place.

Steve tips his head back against the lockers, stares up at the red glow coming from the ceiling where it’s all fallen in, wires and electrical sparks that make him jump when one lights up wildly.

It’s then that Steve feels it, a freezing touch that curls around his ankle, slides slow and smooth around his left leg until it disappears into the leg of his boxers.

Steve spreads his thighs, shimmies his boxers down to bunch up around his ankle where the vine is still curled tight around his leg.

The room starts to move as vines crawl out from the darkness. One wraps loosely around his throat, another around his middle, around his knees. Lifting, moving him, shifting him around until he’s no longer sitting against the shitty wooden bench but lifted up against the lockers with his legs spread wide.

Tiny jet black tendrils slide from the emptiness of the lockers he’s pressed against, tucking themselves into the collar of his shirt to flick over his nipples, curling and tugging at the nubs until Steve is gasping under the cold touch. He can’t help the whines that slip past his lips when his shirt is finally ripped from his body, hangs off him in grey scraps of fabric. It’s fucked up, it’s so fucked up, but desire is better than fear and Steve is so tired of feeling afraid, he’s tired in general and giving in is so much easier than the fight. He’s tired of fighting.

“Oh god.” Steve groans into the empty air, hips thrusting off the metal lockers in search of friction, in search of those slick black vines that curl along the length of his dick. They’re ice cold, freezing, it makes his dick ache and drool as it starts milking him, Steve’s gasps coming out in frozen puffs of air.

One starts rubbing between his cheeks, the blunt end of the appendage nudging against Steve’s hole getting him slick with that black blood slime, the same black blood slime Steve started coughing up a month ago when he was awake and behind the counter of Family Video.

It breaches him with ease, the girth of two fingers slowly working in and out, smaller trindles coming alongside it to tug and pull at Steve’s pink rim, to worm their way beside the protruding vine that’s currently sliding deeper into his body.

Steve can come like this, has come like this, he always gets off in his dreams, they never leave him feeling more than satisfied and full.

The vine around Steve’s dick tightens near the base, keeps him stiff and wet as a thin tendril of black slides through precum, pushes its way into the head of Steve’s swollen cock until it’s sliding in in in and Steve’s eyes roll to the back of his head. He shouts, tries fruitlessly to squirms away from the icey vine fucking his dick hole.

Taking advantage of Steve’s open panting mouth, a thick appendage taps against the side of Steve’s cheek, leaves a greasy smear, the only real warning Steve gets before his mouth is stuffed with that foul too sweet putrid taste. He drools around it, it makes his mouth feel tingly and numb, so cold his lips start to sting. He lets his mouth hang loose, individual vines taking turns with his open mouth, sliding across his tongue, greedy for the only source of warmth in this world.

The vines toying with his ass press deeper, they’re relentless. Steve’s eyes grow wide as he feels them start to expand and undulate inside of him, stretching him until it hurts, until the rim of his hole is puffy and pink, sucking in the thick cord that’s swelled past the size of someones cock in both girth and length. A high whine works it’s way from the back of Steve’s throat, legs giving a feeble attempt to kick out from where he’s being held up against the lockers.

Steve doesn’t realize he’s crying until he chokes on a sob, not because it hurts, but because his entire body is being overstimulated, all he can do is take and take, watch those thick vines jab into him over and over, never leaving him empty. He feels impossibly full, stomach bulging from the onyx vine pressing in so deep Steve positive his insides are being rearranged.

They pump into him hard and fast, the wet squelch of his ass being stretched and stuffed to the brim, his cock so red it hurts, precum spilling out around the thin vine spearing his dick open.

“Please please please.” Steve sobs the moment the vines pull from from his mouth, drool and dark slime spilling down his chin. He needs to cum, he’s so cold, shivering in their hold, fingers and toes tingling from numbness.

“Almost.” A voice calls out from the shadows. “Just a little more, you can take a little more.”

Steve doesn’t have to look to know who it is, there’s only one other person in his dreams, though he’s not quite sure Billy is actually a person anymore.

Steve groans, head lolling back against the lockers. “Billy! Billy please I feel… god I’m so full, I can’t.”

Billy steps out of the darkness, same dirty boots, same stained tank top, same darkness pumping through his veins making his muscles bulge. “Just a little bit more, you can take more.”

Steve positive he can’t take more, he’s going to split open, he’s going to choke on black blood slime and die only to wake up back in his bed. He’s been stuffed before but never like this, never to the point where he can see the the vines actively pumping something inside of him that is turning his insides into ice.

Billy touches him slow, gentle, blunt nails scratching through the dark hair on Steve’s chest before he flattens his palm, drags it down to rest along Steve’s hip. “It’ll all be over soon.” He whispers against the shell of Steve’s ear. “Just be still.”

Steves not sure what that means, but his eyes widen when something drops out of the ceiling, the same rotten meat appendage that ripped through Billy’s chest at the mall.

It hangs precariously in the air before moving towards them.

“Wait wait wait!” Steve starts to tense up, attempts to pull his hands free.

The vine around his neck tightens, slams Steve head back against the locker, squeezes tight until Steve can’t do more than make feeble attempts to breathe. The mindflayer moves closer, and vines pumping in and out of him press deeper, move faster, never stop touching him, never stop nailing that bundle of nerves inside of him.

Steve thinks maybe it’s the fear that makes him come, his entire body tightening up in response to the panic he feels, a fear he hasn’t felt in a long time since he started having these dreams.

Steve comes so hard his eyes roll back, face scrunched up in pain as the vine spearing his dick open pulls out letting thick ropes of cum shoot freely against his chest, against dark vines still holding him up.

There’s a loud roaring noise, it could be him screaming, it could be the Mindflayer. It’s the only warning Steve gets before the rotten appendage blooms and shoots forward to cover his face, forcing something down his throat, choking him, filling him.

He blacks out.

——

Steve wakes up screaming and then choking.

He’s back in the safety of his gridlocked bedroom, rolling out of bed only to hit the ground hard, knocking into his nightstand and spilling everything over in the process.

He can feel something cutting off his air, clogging his throat as he struggles to breath, gags on whatever it is. He’s crying and drooling, another wet gag as something starting to come up. Steve reaches into his mouth, fingers touching something at the back of his throat. He tugs, it fucking hurts but it’s coming free, a scene straight out of one of the horror films Robin insists they watch all the time.

Steve pulls until it all comes free, sucks in a wet gasp of air as he stares down at the gold chain and St. Christopher pendant pooled in spit sitting in his hand.

“What the fuck.” Steve rasps, drops the necklaces like it burns.

He’s awake now, he woke up, this doesn’t happen when he’s awake. Steve’s pretty sure he’s going to be sick.

There’s no time to get up, to move, dark black bile suddenly spilling from Steve’s mouth as he pukes up the dark liquid, watches with wide wet eyes because he can’t stop puking. The puddle grows, moves, gleams in the darkness. It’s too much, more than just the contents of his stomach, more liquid than his body should be capable of holding but it keeps coming out, Steve keeps puking until suddenly he’s not.

The puddle slides across the carpeted floor, pulses in the moonlight filtering in through the bedroom window.

Steve wipes the back of his mouth, scoots back until he’s pressed against his nightstand and watching with horror filled eyes as the black blood slime starts to take shape, gets bigger, bulkier, molds itself to stand tall until it’s vaguely human shaped, vaguely _Billy_ shaped.

Steve’s positive he still dreaming, he has to be dreaming, only he’s not in the upside down, his bedroom walls aren’t falling apart, and the blob of dark slime is pinkining up, looking more and more like sun kissed skin until Billy Hargrove is standing naked in his bedroom, black veins pulsing beneath his skin until everything settles and he looks how he did before the Mindflayer destroyed his body.

Billy grunts, takes a step forward, bends down into Steve’s space making him jerk back. He grabs the pendant off the ground, still wet with spit and bile, reaches towards Steve to run his fingers through bed messy hair.

“Thanks for this pretty boy, we’ve been trying to find our way back for so long. You did so good, you were perfect.”

“We?” Steve’s voice is barely more than a broken whisper.

Billy looks at him, his eyes are wrong, and he smiles that black blood smile.

“ _We_.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!  
> leave comments and lots of love!  
> i’ve never actually written a full on tentacle porn fic before but here we are 💕


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